


Desperate Sermon

by fightableomo



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Desperation, NSFW, Omorashi, Religion, omo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightableomo/pseuds/fightableomo
Summary: Signless lets his sermon get too long
Relationships: The Dolorosa & The Signless | The Sufferer
Kudos: 11





	Desperate Sermon

**Author's Note:**

> this was a request on tumblr

Signless stood atop a stone as he spoke. Sure it wasn’t the best place to be standing if one wanted to be influential, but technically he was an outcast and a wanted criminal, so he wasn’t going to complain about a rock being his pulpit. However, he was going to complain about one aspect of his situation. Namely, he had to take a leak. Though he wasn’t going to until he had finished his sermon considering it was rude to just leave these people. However, it was still sort of beginning to hurt, not to mention it was uncomfortable in the first place. 

It didn’t help that he knew that there was nothing he could do to help it. Not just in the sense that he couldn’t go off and take a leak into the woods just feet behind him, but also in the fact that he couldn’t just grab himself to help with the pressing desperation. 

God, he’d love to clench his thighs and shove a hand in his crotch. But he couldn’t. That wasn’t really polite, especially not in front of dozens of people who looked up to him. So, he wouldn’t do that. No, he would just keep talking about important issues about how short life expectancy for low loods was a myth perpetuated by highbloods who worked the lower bloods to death and blamed it on natural causes. 

He was almost done, and sure the pressure just below his waist line had gotten worse, but he hadn’t leaked, so it was all f-- He spoke to soon. 

He could feel a tiny hot trickle make its way out of him. Judging by the warmth between his thighs, it definitely left a wet spot. He inhaled sharply as he thought about the humiliation he would go through if everyone he was talking to saw it. 

A moment later, he realized, he had no reason to fear. His leggings were not only righteous, but black. Wetness, not even cherry red in color, would show up. He was fine as long as he didn’t leak again. 

Again, he spoke too soon. Another trickle slowly made its way out of him, this time making its way as far as his knees before he cut it off. 

He panics, what if someone does notice? Halfway between his panic and his sermon, he notices that he stumbles over a couple of words. That never happens/ Him? Stuttering? On sermon he’s had memorized for almost a sweep now and has delivered countless times flawlessly? He stuttered? 

He let his hands drop to his sides as the realization of his folly set in. The tattered cloak that sat around his shoulders came down around him, masking his torso from view. Damn. That was also a problem. His delicate, sometimes intricate hand motions were also a part in his speech. With the majority of his body masked from the watching eyes of the crowd, he can’t use body language. 

Another leak from his bladder brings him out of his inner monologue. Damn, if only he could hol- he could. 

Trying not to smile, he shoved a hand into his crotch. His hips wiggled a little at the welcome pressure. 

It was too late though. Despite his best efforts, the small stream continued, slowly but steadily. He could feel the hat liquid trickle between his fingers and the damp spot at his crotch grow. It started to drip down his thigh, though it was still absorbed by the fabric. 

His fears come back. What if it dripped to the stone below. Surely everyone watching would know his blood color then, not to mention be disgusted that he can’t even manage not to piss himself like a wriggler. 

He finished his sentence. There technically was still fifteen minutes left of the speech, but it wasn’t worth it. He paused before clearing his throat and speaking, “Thank you. All questions will be directed towards my lovely matesprit over there.” Signless withdrew is not piss soaked hand and gestured quickly at the Disciple before rushing off his makeshift podium. 

He tried to walk away, he did. But he was fighting against the crowd, not to mention the Disciple who was fighting to get to him. 

He didn’t care, he had to get to is mother who was waiting patiently at the back, pride in her eyes. 

As he got closer, the pride was replaced with concern. She placed a hand on his shoulder, “What’s wrong my child?”

He lowered his voice, “I, uh, I need to pee really bad. I’ve kinda already started, and now everyone’s going to know what a mutant I am.”

She wrapped an arm around him as she pulled him close. “Darling, it’s okay. The dirt won’t betray your color. Don’t hurt yourself, just go,” 

He buried his face in her shoulder and lets himself piss. The hot wet trails ran quickly down his legs into the dirt. Just as she said, the brown dirt absorbed it all and just looked wet. 

Dolorosa pat his back, “It’s okay, do you want to go home?”

Tears pricking his eyes, he nodded his head. She gently lead him off, letting the crown fend for themselves. 


End file.
